Sycamore Row - John Grisham

He owned two furniture factories in Mexico and needed to visit them. He arranged for
Julina to obtain a passport and asked her if she wanted to accompany him. She took it
more as a demand than an invitation. But she had never left the country and was mildly
intrigued by the notion of seeing a bit of the world, even though she knew a
compromise would be involved.
“I doubt if Seth was the first white man to chase you,” Clapp said.
She smiled slightly, nodded her head, and said, “No. It does happen.” Again, Clapp
tried to control his thoughts. Why was she still single? And living in a subsidized
apartment? Any woman, black or white, with her looks and figure could parlay them
into a much better life.
Her first trip on an airplane was to Mexico City. They checked into a luxury hotel—
two adjoining rooms. The dreaded knock on her door came that night, and she opened
it. Afterward, lying in bed with him, she was disgusted by what she had done. Sex for
money. At the moment, she was nothing but a prostitute. She bit her tongue, though,
and as soon as he disappeared the next day she took a cab to the airport. When he
returned a week later, she was fired on the spot and escorted out of the office by an
armed guard. She hired a lawyer who slapped a sexual harassment claim on Seth, whose
own lawyer was horrified by the facts. They quickly capitulated and wanted to settle.
After some haggling, Seth agreed to a lump sum payment of $125,000 in a confidential
deal. Her lawyer kept $25,000, and she had been living off the rest. She wasn’t supposed
to reveal that to anyone, but what the hell. It had been five years.
“Don’t worry, Seth’s dead,” Clapp said, then told her the rest of the story. She listened
as she chewed the elastic chicken and washed it down with sugared iced tea. She had no
feelings for Seth and did not pretend to. She had practically forgotten about the old
man.
“Did he ever say anything about preferring black women?”
“He said he didn’t discriminate,” she said, slower now. “He said I wasn’t the first black
one.”
“When did he say these things?”
“Pillow talk, you know? I’m not getting involved in a lawsuit.”
“Didn’t say you were,” Clapp tried to reassure her, but she was even more careful.
Clapp knew he had once again stumbled onto something huge but played it cool. “But
I’m sure the lawyers I work for would be willing to pay for your testimony.”
“Is that legal?”
“Of course it’s legal. Lawyers pay for testimony all the time. Every expert charges a
fortune. Plus they fly you up there and cover your expenses.”
“How much?”
“Don’t know but we can talk about it later. Can I ask you something that’s, well,
rather delicate?”
“Oh why not? What have we not discussed?”
“When you were with Seth, how was he, know what I mean? He was sixty-six then,
and he hired this black housekeeper a couple of years later. This was long before he got
sick. The old boy was getting on in years, but sounds like he was fairly frisky, you